"flossed" poems
you're all soft lines
and blurry edges:
like the moments between each
rise and fall of our chests
while your lips entwine mine
with every breath.
you're all droppy eyes
and silent screams:
looking behind you
everytime you leave,
keeping doors locked
and your teeth flossed.
never letting a single thing
escape your mind that you've lost.
you're all languishing stares
and rough hands -
you've kept mine clean,
laced yours around mine
and promised forever this time.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
He's found himself in the closet
After he lost to himself in a game of tic-tac-toe
And tied his lobster bib tightly
Then hid his cheat sheet, for the pop quiz he knew was soon to come
It's curtains for her
She let the cat out of the bag
And now she's up **** creek with ****** for paddles to go **** herself with
Right in the birth canal
Then we'll auction off the ******
We'll pass them off as European defibrillators
Maybe some extremist will want them
If we spew out enough mindless dribble
The All Time Shit-Show is about to begin
We have
The Chronic Masturbater
The Hypochondriac
And The Pathological Liar
It was either sometime yesterday
Or sometime tomorrow
Or was it sometime today?
That you were all going to make fun of the boy with the cleft lip down at the laundromat?
Out of the three of you The Pathological Lair sticks out like a sore thumb
I can tell he was the runt of the litter
Who always bites off more than he can chew
I see the Hypochondriac has convinced himself he has eczema
He rattles off all his symptoms
Inordinate filibustering
Now there's the Chronic Masturbater
He looks like he's over the hill
He's only twenty one
But the blue circles under his eyes and the deep defined lines on his forehead denote his inelegant aging
I sign all your lives away in my horrible cursive
And now you belong to the ragtag trigger-happy posse of gun-jumpers
My billfold his happily filled
So I must go do some reconnaissance
Spy on those who have quit their day jobs
The fish out of water
You must find that thing that really rolls off the tongue with a nice ring to it
******
*******
*******
*******
No...
Go hang youself with dental flossed you home-schooled fool
Indentured servants we're just an after thought
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
Take me back to Chelsea please
Where the flossed and glossed smile at me
And everyone’s kind to an open mind
That’s materialistic in design.
Where locals embrace me all open armed
Whenever I’m crinkling cash in my palms.
So eject me fast from this boorish ******
And take me back to Chelsea please.
Take me back to Chelsea please
Outside the city’s financial squeeze
Where mummy and daddy pay the cheques
For my escargots and Ready Brek.
I’ll wield through the system with the family name
And use all the power of my local fame.
Oh, to live life without la joie de fees
Come take me back to Chelsea please.
Take me back to Chelsea please
To put my social norms at ease.
I miss my measly excuse of friends
Who constantly ***** to make amends
For their failed entrepreneurial careers
Their dialect a hodgepodge of gobbles and sneers.
I long for their monotonous wheeze
So take me back to Chelsea please.
Chelsea, Chelsea you’re all I adore
From the A308 to the A304.
You’re the sole nirvana I can’t bear to depart,
Your femmes fatales know the paths to my heart.
But you will always have the its lock and key
So Chelsea: come and take me back please.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
If I could be a pure mammal
Upon the sun-blessed earth
Then I would be a tiger
And live in constant dearth
If I could be a free-flying bird
That lives in floating sky
Then I would be a falcon,
Constantly diving to survive.
If I could be a careful insect
Who fears an empty spine,
Then I would be a honeybee,
A small piece in a grand design.
If I could be a scaly reptile
Devoid of female affection,
Then I would be a chameleon
Hiding myself for protection.
If I could be an amphibian,
Who laughs at single worlds,
Then I would be a salamander
Sneaking onto forbidden thresholds.
If I could be a splashing fish
Who is fickle and lost,
Then I would be a goby
Who seldom comes out when flossed.
If I could but be my true self,
I'm rather sure you'd see
That I'm no longer passively
Waiting for death to be free.
© 3/8/13
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 7:19 PM UTC
Here they come to seek a symbol
of seaside sun - a cruise ship
castaway, beached,rain stained,
landlubbers hamock and griddle.
But first they collapse me and curse me.
Doing it properly should be
part of their curriculum vitae,
a test of nationality.
Then I'm candy flossed, ice creamed, Blackpool
rocked, salted and crisped, generally stuffed,
while they lie back, roast and relax.
Good job it's not a nudist beach.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you
I don't miss you too terribly
I only think of you sometimes
I can forgive easily
I never wanted to be in your life anyway
There's plenty of other people to love
I'm just waiting for the right one
I left the house enough times this week to call it progress
I swear I'm doing okay
I eat when I'm supposed to, I don't drink like I need to, and I stopped smoking
My lungs are full
So am I
I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you
You're girlfriend is better off not knowing
I want her to be happy too, really
I am happy
Really, I am
I got out of bed today when I was supposed to
I brushed my teeth, flossed, cleaned
And I did all of it without you,
Didn't I?
Not once did you cross my mind
In fact, you hardly ever do
I am too busy for distraction,
Writing poems about other things than the crippled dream that was us
I use past tense purposefully
I am over you
I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you
I can sleep in these sheets without feeling your phantom limbs grazing mine
It's okay that you left so little behind
I can swallow the shells without choking
I can listen to music without hearing your voice singing along
Your absence is what I've always wanted
I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
tended
in dreams i am flossed at sea
only to be
muttered and lost
once upon awakening
un-present and tense
Jun 15, 2023
Jun 15, 2023 at 10:26 AM UTC
Unrealistically going ballistic on premature political whistle blowing of missing ballistic missiles.
Rumors round the fickle frowns trickling down around town,
WMD's never found.
Media drowns out our original intent with swayed day-to-day comments about potential evidence or contents of secret documents or undisturbed "security clearancegate".
Still secret and still unclear year-to-date....
our eroded freedoms now appurtenances as consequence.
The missing missiles long ago hidden or moved like agendas with chess-master finesse.
Citizens chide "You lied!! Confess!"
Behooving you proves nothing in bringing relief to your beliefs,
thieving your freedoms and Commander in Chief.
Lectures on conjecture don't secure a future.
It's almost "Au Revior" american cars and mortgages, hype puts the scarred afar Stars and Stripes Bail Bonds Czars in business.
Meanwhile billions are spent to rebuild the countries invaded without consent.
The Banks are saved but don't repent.
Far enough away to keep my iniquity a bay for today.
I clearly see what is before me, but respond not to my thoughts as I was taught.
Septed in guilt,
wept in filth
kept in tilt
loss is coming,
should have flossed.
The long term costs tossed aside.
Just another day I drive away from the driveway rarely driven to lie longer or lie down somber,
striving for stronger days lost,
feels wrong though.
I still go.
Pay the tolls.
Stop and go.
Fill the daily paying role outside my dreams and goals.
Play generic background music while my soul's on hold waiting for the next available operator.
Just another day, a way to stay alive and not lie down in hunger,
paying for my blunders,
staving off my heart's quiet thunder,
my dreams and wonders.
I still get up. I still go. Bills to pay. Traffic's slow. I mute the radio.
-R. Craig David-Copyright 2007
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:14 AM UTC
Between the hours of twelve and one
sleep comes upon my head
and should I not doze off outright
I make prepared for bed
and every night I do the same
with flossed and brushèd teeth
the coffee *** is timed to brew,
sleep setting on T.V.
There's little more a man could do
inside so small a space
with front door locked, and lights turned out
I tend to end my days.
Yet there's one thing I leave unchecked
and do so knowingly:
The Peephole in my ten'ment door
does seem to stare at me.
But never shall I look again,
not through that small inlet,
because one fateful night I did,
and now I can't forget.
It was a night without a mark
to make it stand apart—
I thought about the coming day
while walking through the dark.
And without thought, I stole a glance
outside onto the street
and through the peephole, there it stood
just staring right at me.
If somehow it could sense my gaze,
I really could not say—
with heart in mouth, I held my breath
and tried to slink away.
I crept in bed and pulled the sheets
around my trembling frame
and sat upright, until the night
did give way to the day.
A knock upon my door at nine
aroused me from my state
"Delivery!" a voice called out—
no longer could I wait.
I sprang from bed, my nightclothes on
and toward the door I ran
and without looking, opened
hoping I would see a friend.
Instead I looked around in shock,
for nobody was there—
no package left upon my stoop,
and silence in the air.
And as I went to close the door,
a wind began to blow,
a wind that whispered secrets that
no man should ever know.
I went inside, and horrified,
I knew I'd paid a toll,
and nevermore could I feel safe
to look from my peephole.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 5:24 PM UTC
I was laying awake in bed when
a lame pick-up line came to mind
*"Are you tired girl? 'Cuz
you've been running through my head all day!"*
I was bored so I broke it down
I was thinking of you when I woke up
wondering when's the next time I'd wake to your skin
I was thinking of you when I got dressed
and how you'd always ask if your clothes made you look thin
I was thinking of you when I poured coffee into my cup
and how you'd curl your nose at my coffee-breathed kiss
I was thinking of you while I flossed
dreaming of your smile which sends my heart into doing flips
I was thinking of you as I drove to work
and your love texts I'd get throughout the day
I was thinking of you during my break
how you'd wiped the ketchup off my face that first date
I was thinking of you as I waited for the bank clerk
you were excited as they rep handed you our new house key
I was thinking of you while I was picking up a steak
and how beautiful you looked when it rained on our picnic by the sea
I was thinking about you as I drove around town for an hour
and how I missed your loving eyes when I'd pull in the drive
I was thinking about you while I cooked my dinner
oh, how I missed the way you baked my favorite pumpkin pies
I was thinking about you as I was taking a shower
and the steamy nights that started where I stood now
I was thinking about you as I had laid my head to sleep
and I was thinking about how tired you had to be now
somehow
I think I'll let you run a bit longer in my dreams.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 1:25 AM UTC
How do you deal with pain I ask, I cannot see behind the mask.
I punched until bare knuckles torn. I cannot wait until reborn.
I drank until I ran away, I come back home a wasted day.
I call my friends to no avail. I haven't eaten I'm turning pale.
My sleep is restless, night sweat's soaked. I screamed until on tears I choked.
She does not understand my pain. I don't know, who I am to blame.
It was love I had but now is lost. This memory it must be flossed.
It is indeed my heart she broke. I swear to God I will not ****
I will face my demons, bring it on. Until I see my troubles gone.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
the day came,
I put my laces back
in my shoes.
Let freedom reign,
give me just
3 clues.
True blue, darling.
You sang these songs
4 years ago.
Why I waited until
now to listen,
is beyond me,
myself, and I.
The day came,
the day went.
Days spent with
rubber-bands
over mt asics.
The circle-spiral
across my chest,
in the shape of a
beautiful
orange sun.
Shower-shoes
for my water
quest.
Barcode number read
7097277340-8769
laser-band,
laser-tag,
all of my clothes
in a brown paper bag.
Just when I thought I
sipped liquid gold,
I remember there is
velcro shoes that
strap tighter
around my feet.
I skipped, I galloped,
I stripped, I tripped.
I'm sorry Mom & Dad,
will you forgive your
baby girl?
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
in a bathtub full of cigarette butts
you feel the cuts from where the what happened was
the tiles clean
the main scenes agleam
serene
the way it'd been flossed in between
so many wished evade desire
the smoldering questions start a fire
a breeding fawn bleeds slowly on
the withering cactus on the lawn
though not too far
beneath the moon
would the dark's ending begin soon
and the same **** thing when the owl sings
at the wingless being only he sees
because the right thing never mattered too much
as another lost friendship fuels a crutch
stare from square one
and request a redo
glare at a scared son
for what he can see through
turn the light out now
if you need to
and open up wider
while i feed you.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
I'm the muskrat
Hairy, hazy, crazy, rat tailed
Pretty coat
I'm a rodent, a little flea, a pesky, petty problem, what you gone do about me?
I'm the muskrat, the mouse who flossed his teeth, fat when necessary
Far fetched and reaching, digs fast, burrowing, the scrat, the muskrat, low, low voiced, low creeping, smokey scrat ain't good for crap, the muskrat,
Breath Jim bean and smoke green, tell bad jokes just to be mean
Grrr urrnn, grrr urrnn raunchy, metal and eggs in the morning , coffee with cream, conditioned, spitting and ******
The muskrat
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
i awake from dreams about not eating certain things
and eating certain other things ....i wake
i dream sub-marine
submariner flossed at sea
dreaming
i lost the race
astronaut untraceable
spaced
pacing out a heartbeat
obscene dreams
by the plunderful
engorging
plentiful
digging like a thirst
carving out a craving
digging like a dog
ever unquenchable
Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 9:29 PM UTC
though strictly Fermi, and oh...(en Rico) plus sun
dre other parvenues, a rapture
surges thru me,
when audibly communicating, enunciating,
and speaking English words
as if hi ken run
a marathon, or zip to the moon,
(take as cheesy tong in cheek)
from this pun
gent, who relishes reading for my eyes and ears
asper myself, which purported nun
sense ink reese sees learn'n
den earn an award,
especially wash'n black board
den breathing intelligent dust
from eraser head could awk cord,
I utter Hieronymus Bosch, bing enamored,
and aye actually confess
tubby a model United Nations chimp
pan zee, and/or other
type of survey monkey hook can huff ford
Old Rotten Gotham horde
sliding down into the behavioral sink...
exclaiming "oh me jack lord"
and getting rescued then getting less on,
sans get'n taut how (muss elf George Eliot)
tubby comb moored
flossed, milled, and taut
tubby trained for Operation Ready Date
by a coop pull oof oot standing chap,
named Adam West, who poured
salty epithets (reminding me, as they roared
that life iz brutal, short and nasty),
part tickly ne'r the end
wharf hew scored
and majority got de toured
until emotionally, physically,
and spiritually enlightened
By Rabindranath Tagore and Burt Ward.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC
Inside the brightly painted hut
crinkle cut and candy flossed where old men dossed out of the rain and one more stain don't make no odds to Gods who 'cock a deaf un',
sits Johnny Stone,
among the brittleness of skin and bone, he wears his worries and his cares away by sniffing grey hairs up his nose.
Posing every now and then for beachside surfers who,when they see this man survives amid the torture of the lies that haunt his face,move on to another place and forget they've ever seen and glad they've never known
Johnny Stone.
In this tinsel town one more Stone goes down and one more becomes the one that's trading places,revolving dreams on sunlit faces and a bigger pile of luggage cases for the dustbin men to take away
Stay at home,carve your dreams quite thinly off the bone, or you'll end up like Johnny Stone,
hungry
and all alone.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 6:02 AM UTC
The first time I saw you, you were eating candy
Which is ironic because you couldn't have been less sweet
The more I think about it,
The more I realize that you must have been eating sour patch kids
First they're sour
Then they're sweet
Then you so full of regret because you knew it wasn't good for you
The first time I talked to you, you told me I was beautiful
Which was pointless because clearly I wasn't as beautiful as her
I noticed you had an every-changing taste in candy
You must have also had an ever-changing taste in girls
You must have been full of jaw-breakers when I kissed you
Because you made mouth ache
Or maybe it was from the endless yelling
Nights I flossed with cotton candy
Wishing it would cause my teeth to rot and fall out
So I never had to speak to you again
But the truth is you were my candy
Rotting me from the inside out
And yet I thought you were so sweet
How could something so delicious be so bad for you?
You're still my guilty pleasure
I still sneak down at midnight to have a taste of you
You still melt in my mouth
Spreading addicting poison through my body
Giving me a sugar high
Making me think everything is sweet
Then letting me crash
You let me crash
Just like a candy man, you make me sick if I have too much
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
I've got this smile I do
Where the corners of my mouth twitch up as far as they'll go
And I hold my lips just so
so that top row of my teeth are on show
But not the top gums, never those
And then of course
A little pull on those cheeks to get the dimples
And I brush furiously each day,
but I never look inside,
I never look past the 6 white teeth I show
to see the teeth beside.
I used to have a feeling,
That laterally, they yellowed,
A furtive fearful glance,
saw shapes in the shadow,
but scared of what the light might show,
I never used to know.
Fear of what I might see,
Genetic imperfections, naturally.
So I brushed and brushed,
And then
I bit the apple,
And the chunks stuck in my teeth
And the chunks sunk down the crevices
and festered underneath.
And then I said so what: I flossed,
I took the chance to let the light dance,
And ignorance is all I lost.
I know everything.
And I wouldn't say they're yellow, more cream.
But as the floss delves down into the unknown crevices between my teeth,
It brought out some awful gunk that really stunk,
And I bled too, you know,
But I'm told those things are natural
The first few times.
And of course when it bleeds,
It's because of gum disease...
But it leaves if you can just see
what's ***** then clean.
So I made a policy decision,
not to shy away from imperfections,
as reminders of my human condition.
But instead to do the best I can
with what I've got, and all the love I can muster.
We used to do it for God,
But that's all gone in this age of science,
And meritocracy.
So I put my faith
in the healthy suspicion,
What feels right, is right.
That is, feeling is being,
Do you see what I'm seeing?
And what feels right is the best we can
The difference from man to man,
The one will live his life in fear
Of news he'll probably never hear.
The next will live his life light
Taking action, when he can,
So he might taste the world's delight.
And then of course I've got this smile
That I couldn't do a thing to hide,
As my mouth is open wide,
I've got no fear of what's inside.
Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 7:05 AM UTC
we sit sifting
through the muddy sand
of an aging ocean,
looking for everything
we've lost.
the breaths come slower,
the fear faster,
as the sun peaks and
falls between the rocks.
the fog rolls in, the
storm creeps in, the
thunder jumps out,
the lightning strikes
out
the rain ebbs over
the flossed clouds,
silhouetting time like
a picture frame.
the seas sigh in unison
with lightning's glare,
illuminating nothing and
everything.
drowned over the cliff,
drenched on the shore,
living free underwater,
and we still sit,
sifting.
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 1:00 PM UTC
no bleak
no gravel
no granary
flushed upward flossed through the cloud
proud of our colourful obituary
but there's nothing to hold us here
fear nothing wary
no feline attention
no canary to fulfil the coal mine
just the foggy cotton of perspiration and no cling
so we are benign to respond
rung to sense
to physics
to every-mans gravity
no grieve
no manner
no calamity
just plummet
and wind sore
and sun-bleached torn clothing
and dread of developing horrors
perhaps collision with unwanted human company
no paid way into outer space
jest descent
you flounder for memories
to flutter before eyes
instead you are battered by collage
an old video game console the cat peed on
clips you fragrant between the eyes
a set of your golf clubs in their bag
winds you hugging in the gut
(did you ever play golf ?)
so much more product and then the car
Jeep Grand Cherokee colour burgundy
draws level
doors hung open to the yap of history
grateful and familiar you take to its back seat
pull over a tarp and sleep
but its all crushed apart
and you face again
the plunge
turning corpses of hills below
the quaking landscape bellows "NO!"
and patches of spikey urban ventilation
all gush to volunteer you
***** toward your voice
that's screams also 'No!'
but realize
the voice
of the
earth
screams rowdier
and on a weeping in-breath
to replenish
Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 1:39 PM UTC
The Hour Glass
Flossed on the inside
Clear on the outside
Impossible to change
Redirecting the sense of time
Unbewildered to it's loss
Connects the dots of past and present
A weathered feather
A fallen leaf
A dying flower
You and me
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
exactly how white do I want to be?
came to terms with my whiteness sometime ago,
the dentist mixes in, an offer to refresh my yellowed
pearls, who’ve served admirably long, sure footed,
long in the tooth…
surprisingly, this puts me off guard, uncharacteristically
unprepared,
exactly how white do I want them to be?
mmm…
the scale is as follows (intermediary levels are complicated)
1. Taylor Swift Bright
10. Cowardly Lion Old Yeller
and shades in between, I’ve grown accustomed to to my smile, which is closest to the Lion’s accreted usage and
wear and tear, and decide to stay as is, to keep my body
in a state of synchronicity
Doctor puzzled, “why do I smile?”
Why Doktor!
you’ve commissioned a poem,
and now know why your License Plate
declare you as Dentist so boldly,
You have the power to end racial strife,
uniform the populace with bright headlights,
and clearly should be allowed to proceed
posthaste to any and all life threatening
emergencies
but my preference is to display many decades
of failure, irregular brushes, periodic flossed,
my natural color my god-given grace, and who
am I
OR ANYONE ELSE
be empowered
to disturb the natural order of human
perfectionism schematics, for
to every season, every human being,
there is a color unique!*
Feb 8, 2024
Feb 8, 2024 at 7:51 AM UTC
The most groundbreaking moments in my life have mostly been the minute connections I have made with other mortals, the ones that made me feel small while making my heart feel like it was growing inside of my tiny chest, like my organs were running around, making way, like my rib cage disconnected, tried to move, and eventually would break, like my veins were stems of flowers, and I could see the petals growing in the pinks of cheeks and across my pale chest, I felt the stitches, long gone now, from my twenty year old scar would rip my torso open right down the center and expose the heart inside, honest.
But my heart doesn't swell the way it used to, and my rib cage fells like its sinking in on itself, like the my organs are running and squeezing themselves into dark corners to avoid being attacked by the shards of ivory.
When I look into the eyes of a girl I know I'd have been enamored by, if I had met her at an earlier time, I only see the glare in her glasses. I sigh at her misfortunes but check the clock, noticing how slowly time passes
when you're unable to understand someone
looking at their palms, the way their fingers move,
wondering why my mind is feeling so numb...
My heart feels like an empty rim, missing the face of the drum.
I have not been to the cardiologist in six years,
I'm afraid he will tell me the stickers on my skin told him my secret,
when I smile they see my skeleton,
when I sing they see my gums,
that's why I listen with my mouth closed and protect the illusion with a hum.
I have not flossed for a long time either, afraid they will find the plaque in the trash, pull it out and reveal inside this furnace is only ash.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC
Jack Sparrow had some fun
he
made
SpongeBob
sit in the sun
Bikini bottom
was filled with cotton
and
Patrick
flossed
his
***
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 4:50 AM UTC